The biggest reason Dan had been willing to move away from KWDY in Boulder to take the morning slot at a smaller radio station in Raleigh was the chance to be close to his family again. He'd been the local-boy-made-good when he came back. Ted had given him free rein with the morning content, including an unprecedented freedom with the playlist. Then Ted, in the manner of all people everywhere who were smart, fun to work with, and talented, had received a whopping offer for a better job from a major market station and had flown happily away, leaving Bernie, that human pile of bat guano, in his place.
Dan, on the other hand, had decided to stay.
He glanced at the rearview mirror to check his hair, wondering if it had gotten long enough that his mother was going to give him a hard time about it. He checked the time—4: 45 P. M. If he were lucky, he could visit with his mom and get out the door before Arthur came home.
Arthur.
Dan made a face. Arthur, the all-around great guy; Arthur, his mother's hero; Arthur, the big twenty-five-year man at Daltech; the guy in upper management who "took her away from all of that," and into a big house and fancy lifestyle. Now Arthur-the-Savior was as likely as anyone to be facing the ax, and the family was going to see how steadfast he was. Dan feared old Art would split, and his mother would get her heart broken again. And end up owing a lot of money she couldn't afford to pay.
The steady, cold rain, still pouring down out of a bleak gray sky, had left a puddle the size of Lake Michigan across her driveway. Dan decided to park in the street rather than try to figure out a way to get out of the car without getting his feet soaked.
He stepped onto the brick porch. Something new hung from one of the white columns—a small plaque. He read it and frowned.
WELCOME TO THE HOME OF ARTHUR AND PATRICIA HILL
"Hi Mom," he said as the door opened.
"Well, hello stranger," his mother said and hugged him. "Come on in. Watch Arthur's plant."
Dan returned the embrace, then moved past her into the house. "I can't stay long. I have to work on a pitch for the new promotion I'm doing for the station."
She gave him one of those long, omniscient mother looks she'd perfected back when he was fourteen and smuggling Playboy magazines into his room to hide between the mattress and the box springs. "I heard your show this morning."
"Great idea, don't you think?"
Still that look, but now with the raised eyebrow, too. The raised eyebrow indicated her opinion that he'd taken a definite slip into the realms of the sanity-challenged.
"You don't think, huh?"
She dropped into her La-Z-Boy recliner and leaned back. She shook her head slowly, and finally said, "I think a great deal about a great many things. I'd like to see some evidence that you do. What possessed you, Daniel? Or maybe that's the answer as well as the question. Maybe it was demonic possession. Or temporary insanity."
"Why? Come on, Mom—this is an incredible opportunity."
"Yes, it is . . . to help the Hellspawn that are causing the ruin of North Carolina. To give work to one of the monsters responsible for your dad being on the brink of losing his job. I'm afraid I don't see the opportunity in that."
"First, Arthur isn't my dad. He's the man you married, and I'm happy that you found someone you love, but my dad is that jerk out in Topeka who left us." His mother stiffened, and Dan, for just an instant, wished he'd let the "dad" thing slip for once.
"Cynthia calls him 'Dad. '"
"Cynthia was nine when you married him. I was thirteen. That makes a difference. And I didn't intend to talk about Arthur. I intended to talk about his job. If we can get industries to move back here, to realize that North Carolina is still a good place to be, then Arthur won't lose his job. And neither will a lot of other good people. That is what I'm trying to make happen."
"You can't change the Hellraised. They went to Hell because they were evil. Because nobody could change them. And now they're here in North Carolina, doing their evil, and they are going to be here until the last person leaves the state. I'll tell you, Daniel, if we could sell the house in this market, Arthur and I would move. But in eight months the valuation on our home has dropped from one hundred twenty thousand dollars to thirty thousand dollars, and it will probably drop further. Even if we could find a buyer, we couldn't afford to sell."
"I'm sorry." Dan leaned forward. "I know things are hard for you—for everyone. That's why I'm trying to make them better."
"This isn't the way to do it. A panel of experts on Oprah all agreed that they can't be redeemed."
The Oprah defense. Dan had gotten this one before. "Who were these experts?"
"Theologians and evangelists. They were there for a show called 'Which Church Is God's Real Church?' They didn't agree on much else, but they agreed on that."
"What experience did they have with the Hellaised, Mom?"
His mother looked annoyed. "They're . . . theologians . . . and . . . evangelists." The clipped voice snapped with irritation. "They've spent their entire adult lives studying things like this."
"Are they from North Carolina? Have they dealt with the Hellraised?"
"They deal with God."
"That nurse Dayne Kuttner dealt with God. He listened to her. You show me proof that He listens to the pompadoured Jesus-shouters whose big cry is that God needs more money. You prove to me that He listens to the theologians who believe dogma and doctrine are more important than caring for people who need help. Prove to me that God agrees with them. And when you prove that, I'll listen to what those snake-oil salesmen and hate mongers have to say about our problems."
His mother sighed and shook her head. "You were a pain in the neck when you were little, too. You never could believe someone other than you might be right." She put the recliner's footrest down and leaned forward. "I'll give you credit for having good intentions, Dan. Until I see proof to the contrary, though, I'm going to have to assume you still don't have any common sense."
That was as close to truce as his mother was going to get. He could fight about it some more, but fighting with her never got anywhere. He'd inherited her stubbornness, but not as much of it. He shrugged and managed a smile. "Okay. I didn't want to come over to argue with you, anyway. Mostly I just wanted to visit."
She smiled. "Then let's visit."
They chatted for the next hour, staying away from risky topics; Dan told her about his most recent dates with Meg and Janna, and kept her amused with funny stories from the station. When he checked his watch again, he discovered it was time to make a graceful exit and beat a quick retreat before he had to make pleasant chitchat with Arthur. He said, "Ooops! Didn't realize it was so late. Gotta run, Mom—I have an unbelievable amount of work waiting for me."
She stood and walked him to the door, and gave him a quick hug. "Don't forget to call your sister," she said as he headed out the door.
"Why? What's going on?"
"Amy's birthday party, remember? Your niece is going to be how old?"
"Thirty-seven?"
"I said your niece, not your mother, dear."
Dan let his tongue hang out the side of his mouth and panted. "Duuuuh . . . three?"
"Very good. Now don't forget, we'll be expecting you."